


A Compass With Two Norths

by softestpunk



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Sexual Tension, Shay is just composed entirely of thirst in this it's very good, Threesome - M/M/M, he's a good boy really, the threesome comes along late but it's happening I swear, this goes AU basically ten seconds after Shay meets Monro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2020-01-05 07:25:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18361361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softestpunk/pseuds/softestpunk
Summary: After he meets Colonel George Monro, Shay is immediately presented to none other than Grand Master Haytham Kenway--a man who clearly knows exactly who he is.A man who Shay instantly knows he could follow to the ends of the Earth, with a little help from Monro.But what if Shay wants more from Monro than a little help?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello friends, I have returned, still very late to the party, high on the fumes of the ACIII prologue, to bring you: this bullshit.
> 
> (Actually I'm very pleased with how this is coming out and I'll even finish it on schedule probably!!)

I liked Colonel Monro the moment I met him.

Tall and square-shouldered, commanding, firm and serious but not by any means unkind, he was an easy man to trust, even for someone like me, who'd just had their trust shattered almost beyond repair.

I _wanted_ to trust him. I wanted something to cling to--safety in numbers, the sense of belonging to something bigger than myself. That wasn't going to be the British army--not under any circumstances--but Monro wasn't _just_ an army man. There was something more to him. A certainty, right at his core.

All this I could tell as I followed him to the wealthier part of Manhattan, pacing our way through bustling streets, the only safety I expected to know for quite some time.

There was someone he wanted me to meet. Couldn't hurt, could it?

"You were in a bad way when we found you, Shay," Monro said. "But judging by the way you fought off those ruffians, you seem recovered."

Aye, and wearing a dead man's clothes an' all. They didn't quite fit, but it was better than the alternative. They arrested people for running through the streets in their underwear. Besides, it was cold out.

It was always cold in New York. Except in the summer, when it was baking hot.

Home.

I could have laughed at the idea. Home was on the water. The gentle rocking of a ship. No solid ground under your feet at all.

"I think I am, sir," I said. A few bruises, a few aches and pains, but as good as I ever was. Better, even.

"Good. Not that Master Kenway would hurt you, but he might have... a task, or two, and they may be time-sensitive."

My eyes widened, heart leaping into my throat.

Kenway.

Not... not _Haytham Kenway?_ Templar Grand Master Haytham Kenway?

"Master Kenway, sir?"

"Ah, you've heard of him," Monro continued cheerfully. "Good things, I hope. We're here."

I swallowed as Monro knocked on the door. What if he recognised me? What if he just... knew I was an Assassin by looking at me?

Did Monro know? Was _he_ a Templar, too?

Too late to back out now. If I ran, Monro would catch me. And if not him, one of his men.

I'd noticed him nod to so many people on the way here. I held absolutely no illusion that I could escape.

Besides... Monro had been kind. Found me, dusted me off, put me in the care of the Finnegans. Maybe he didn't know who I was, after all. And maybe I could get away with letting that be that, for the time being.

The door to what I assumed was Kenway's townhouse creaked open.

I'd find out soon enough, wouldn't I?

***

Haytham Kenway was magnificent. Magnificent the way snow-capped mountains, humpback whales, Caribbean lagoons and sunsets after a wild storm were magnificent. Looking at him, you knew you were seeing something special.

He looked me up and down with those steely eyes of his, lips pursed and brows just barely furrowed. Like Monro, he was straight-backed, square-shouldered, and brimming with the overwhemling confidence of a man who was absolutely certain of his place in the world.

A hot, tight little knot of lust weighed heavy in the pit of my stomach. This was a man I would have fallen to my knees for and enjoyed every minute of it.

"Shay Patrick Cormac," he said, clipped syllables curling around my name like a cat rubbing up against the inside of your legs.

I nodded.

I didn't ask him to say it again, but it was a close-run thing.

"Born in New York to Irish parents, I understand," Kenway said. "Welcome home, in that case."

He knew about me. How much remained to be seen.

"Would you join Monro and I for afternoon tea? You look like a man who could use a strong cup and a good few sandwiches."

"Uh." I blinked. Afternoon tea? Not interrogation and a spot of light torture before they threw me in a damp prison cell?

"Yes, sir," I managed. "Thank you, sir."

Kenway smiled a small, satisfied smile at me, probably because I kept calling him _sir_ and he got off on people doing that.

I'd heard so much about him and now I couldn't see how any of it was true. He should have been Monro's age, at least--or older. Much older, really.

Grand Master was one hell of a title for a man who couldn't have been much older than Liam, if at all.

Better-looking than Liam, too.

It wasn't just that he was handsome, though. He was, but that wasn't what made him so fascinating--at least, not all of it. The confidence of everything he did, the rumbling purr of his voice, the way power and influence rolled off him as though he'd just risen out of a sea of it.

And the way he looked at me. Interested. Curious. Like I might have been someone worth knowing.

Few people had ever thought that of me.

Haytham went to the stairwell and called for tea, quietly enough to be inaudible if I hadn't been listening for it. I turned to Monro, who offered me an encouraging smile.

Kenway gestured to a sitting area, and we all settled down around a low table--him in a single armchair, and me and Monro sharing a small, plush settee.

I'd never sat on furniture this fine in my entire life, as far as I remembered. I felt as though my presence here was going to break something.

"You must forgive Colonel Monro for dragging you across the city when you've barely recovered from your injuries," Kenway said, though it'd never occurred to me to hold it _against_ Monro. Achilles would've made me run laps of the homestead, more likely than not.

Monro had brought me for tea with a gentleman I couldn't stop looking at.

Even if he was meant to be my sworn enemy. What was that saying about friends and enemies? Keep your enemies closer.

Wouldn't have minded being a _little_ closer.

"But I was so eager to meet you," Kenway purred, almost as if he _knew_. As if he could tell exactly what I wanted from him.

Maybe he was like this with everyone. A Grand Master would have had to be charming, wouldn't he?

The urge to sidle closer to Monro for guidance struck me, but I stopped myself from actually _doing_ it. Just barely, though.

"It isn't every day we have a little fledgling fall out of the Assassins' nest and right into our laps."

My blood ran cold. He knew, all right. He knew exactly what I was.

"I mean you no harm," Kenway said, leaning forward. "In fact, I mean to do right by you in ways your Assassin brethren never could have. But it would be uncivilised to discuss any of this before you've been fed and watered. I hear you've travelled all over the known world, Master Cormac. Would you care to share a tale or two while we wait?"

_Do right by me_.

What the hell did that mean?

I looked between Monro--who nodded his encouragement--and Kenway again, but didn't sense any danger from either of them. I might have been in the vipers' nest, but they only seemed interested in seeing what I was like. Neither of them were poised to swallow me whole.

"I... could spin a story for you, aye."

"I have no doubt you could," Kenway said, sitting back again and crossing one leg over the other, all elegance and wealth and power. "Please, take us away to those far-off places you've seen."

***

With a fine china cup in my hand and a full belly, I couldn't help relaxing by the time the sandwiches were gone and a second pot of tea had been ordered. Kenway and Monro had listened to me, apparently enrapt in my tales of adventure, asking intelligent questions and showing themselves both to be learned men despite perhaps not having travelled as far and wide as I'd been lucky to.

The way Kenway's eyes gleamed, especially, made my stomach feel like it was brimming with butterflies.

"I think it's your accent that makes your tales so much more charming," Kenway said after a while. "I find I could quite listen to you talk all day."

I sipped my tea to save myself having to answer straight away. That wasn't... _quite_ what people usually said. Not Englishmen, certainly. Especially not ones who, by their own telling, had just stepped off the boat not long ago.

"Thank you, sir," I said. "Kind of you to say."

"If the truth is enough to pass for kindness in your eyes, Master Cormac, then I believe this next proposition will be a very pleasant surprise for you. We would offer, to begin with, a place to stay and an opportunity to earn a living doing those things at which you most excel."

"Killin', you mean?" I asked cautiously. I didn't mind, exactly, though some part of me had been hoping to leave that behind.

Kenway shook his head. "Not unless strictly necessary. Or however often would be to your tastes, in any case. We excercise little control over the minutiae of an operative's methods, only their results. Clearly, I am not going to induct a man who came to us still wearing his Assassin's hood into the Order straight away. However, should you find our principles more in line with your own..."

"What principles would those be, sir?" I asked, shifting uncertainly. This was it, wasn't it? My freedom, for a price.

"Order, primarily. I'm sure you've been told we are all evil incarnate, but I hope that Monro at least has already demonstrated that we are perfectly capable of kindness. No. All we wish for is peace and stability. No unecessary deaths. No grand schemes to rule the world. Merely to help it, with what power we do have."

"But _I_ don't have any power," I said cautiously. "I'm walkin' around in a dead man's clothes, just barely back from the brink of death m'self."

Kenway shook his head, tutting softly. "Master Cormac, how wrong you are. A man like you--an accomplished sea captain in your own right, a trained Assassin, clever and strong enough to question your masters... you have everything we could ever want in a young man."

Strange to have someone only a handful of years my senior call me a _young man_ , but he wasn't wrong, either.

"Join us, Shay," Monro said from beside me. "There's nothing you can't do with Templar backing. We're not like the Assassins, not at all. No confining creed, no overbearing mentors. Just encouragement to become the best you can be, and do the most good you can do."

Nothing I couldn't do.

Did that include atoning for my sins? For Lisbon?

I looked over at Haytham Kenway and held his pale gaze for a long few moments.

Aye. With his help, with his backing, I got the feeling any man could do anything. Even make up for his own mistakes.

"Colonel Monro would be with you every step of the way. And of course, you will occasionally be asked to report to me. I'll promise you a decent meal on the next occasion," Kenway said.

I looked between them again, something like hope welling up in my chest.

"Yes."


	2. Chapter 2

Monro had pointed me to a gang stronghold, and I realised what I was dealing with the moment I was close enough to see the flag.

Assassins.

Not Master Assassins, just... hopefuls. New recruits. Men and women who'd mostly do donkey work until it got them killed. Only the strong survived.

Sometimes I thought _I'd_ only survived because of Liam.

But Monro saw something in me. Kenway, too. Something I didn't see for myself.

They wanted me to take out the leader and take the stronghold for the redcoats. Not the Templars. The army.

To keep the peace. To lower the crime rate. And they were right on both points, since I could see this lot were out of hand. Whoever was running operations in New York--and it might've been anyone--they were doing a piss-poor job of it.

Sneaking in, even with my ribs still bruised and my shoulder still sprained, proved easy. Too easy, almost, and as I crept up on the man who stood out as the leader, I half-expected to find someone else's knife in my back any second.

But I didn't. The moment I dove off the rooftop, tackling the poor soul to the ground and driving my blade into his throat, I knew it'd just been... easy.

They were that badly organised, that surprised by anyone showing any real resistance, that I went unnoticed as I dragged the body out of sight and went for the flag.

It was all over so quick my head was still spinning when Monro approached to clap me on the shoulder--the good shoulder, I noticed. He paid attention to these things, and the firm squeeze he gave me felt like more approval than I'd ever enjoyed in my life, distilled into one gesture.

"Well _done_ , Master Cormac," Monro enthused, setting a swarm of butterflies loose in my stomach. "I knew it'd be no trouble at all for a man like you."

"They were disorganised, sir," I said. "Couldn't have found their arses with both hands and a map."

Monro chuckled. "All the same, quite a feat you've accomplished. Join me for dinner, and I'll tell you all about what this means for the locals."

"Dinner, sir?"

"Unless you have other arrangements?" Monro asked, raising an eyebrow.

I shook my head. "None, sir. Thank you, sir."

"Oh, leave the sirs for Master Kenway. He does so enjoy them." Monro smiled wryly. He liked Kenway, and it was obivous, but that didn't stop him teasing behind his back.

It probably didn't stop him teasing to his face. They seemed to have a good relationship.

"Yes, s--uh, Colonel."

Monro grinned broadly at me. He was absolutely nothing like I'd thought a Templar would be. Like I'd been _told_ a Templar would be.

Neither was Kenway.

"Tonight, then? Half-five for dinner at six o'clock?"

"I'll be there," I promised, bowing to Monro and backing away, knowing I needed to arrange a bath between now and then. Monro was a gentleman, and even I knew that you couldn't go to dinner with a gentleman smelling like you'd just spent the day skulking in piss-soaked alleyways--especially if you _had_.

As for the rest of it, well... he'd just have to take me as I was.

***

"There are plenty more strongholds where that one came from," Monro said as dinner arrived--on nice china plates, carefully arranged.

I stared down in horror. Neatly-carved slices of roast duck, a whole artichoke head, and a handful of small boiled potatoes, all covered in a rich-smelling sauce stared back at me.

Either side of the plate, _cutlery_.

I'd seen people do this, but I'd never had to do it myself. Soups and stews only needed a spoon--easy to handle--and anything else, I'd eaten with my fingers as, I thought, God intended.

Taking a gang stronghold was one thing, a fork was another entirely.

I couldn't let Monro see my confusion. These people had taken me in and treated me as one of their own, but I knew that was because they thought me better-bred and cleverer than I actually was. That illusion was currently saving my life.

"I wanted to talk to you about a little... shall we say _urban renewal_ project I'd like your help with. There's a chapel in Greenwich that could use refurbishment. I thought we might put the prize from the stonghold toward it. With your consent, of course. It'll do a lot of good."

Was this really what Templars did? Rob from the rich to give to the poor?

Or was it just a show for me?

But then, what good would that do them? I was already at their mercy--living in lodgings paid for out of, I suspected, Kenway's own purse, doing their bidding, wearing their symbols. They knew who I was and where I was and probably enough of my weaknesses to sink me good and proper.

And yet, I felt no desire to run. Monro had taken me under his wing as though I were a promising student, and not just a price he was paying for something better.

Unlike Achilles, who'd always treated me like a burden that came along with Liam. Never something worth having for my own sake.

"That sounds like a good idea. The people should get the benefit, since they were the ones getting the boot from the gang."

The hurdle of the cutlery still stood in front of me. All I could really do was take a running leap and hope like hell that I cleared it.

I picked up knife and fork--thankful that they were at least set either side of the plate, so I didn't have to decide which to use in which hand--and took a stab at holding them like Monro did.

"Oh," he said. "You needn't bother with them if they trouble you. I won't tell if you don't."

Clearly, I wasn't faking it well enough.

"No," I said, thinking of Haytham Kenway and imagining him leaning back, perfectly comfortable with a silver fork in his hand, all ease and elegance. And then thinking of him wrinkling his nose when he noticed I had no idea how to do the same.

"No," I repeated. "I'd like to learn. Sir."

Monro nodded. "Very well. It's not like holding a pen," he said, holding his hands out over the table, knife and fork clasped loosely in them. "Do you see?"

Watching carefully, I adjusted my grip until it matched his. The whole thing felt awkward, but when Monro gave me a nod that absolutely glowed with pride, it felt worth it. Worth doing the things that these people valued right, even if it seemed daft to me.

"There'll be a spoon with dessert," Monro said, a smile turning up the corner of his lips. "Don't worry."

And just like that, it was all okay. The Order _intended_ to teach me, had expected me to be a little rough around the edges. But mouldable.

I was just now seeing that I wanted to let them do it.

***

"What do you think of the wine?" Monro asked, swirling his own final mouthful around in his glass.

He'd been spoiling me these past weeks, while we'd been working together on cleaning up the criminal element around New York. Dinner after every successful takeover, so we could talk about what to do with the money we'd come by, what would serve the community most.

They'd become my reward for doing as he asked, I thought. The trappings of being the Templars' newest recruit.

Achilles didn't treat new recruits like this. He only bothered with the ones who showed promise, and it was still never warm dinners in his private lodgings. Even Liam rarely got this kind of treatment.

Monro made me feel like I was valuable. Personally valuable, not just a blunt instrument to enact his will with. As promised, I'd been given all the latitude, discretion, and support I could ever have asked for.

"It's umm. Good, sir?" I tried. I didn't know anything about wine except that people were always happy to pay for it, even if it'd been to the bottom of the sea first.

Monro chuckled. "Not about to launch into a description involving blackberries and tobacco?"

"No." I frowned. "Should I?"

"Between you and I, I have no earthly idea," Monro said. "If you want wine knowledge, you'll have to ask Master Kenway."

I doubted, somehow, that he'd have much time for that sort of thing.

"Can't see him having much use for teaching me about wine," I said.

"On the contrary," Monro set his glass down. "He's very interested in you. He's especially interested in your ability to climb your way up the social ranks the same way you scale a building. A natural charmer, he calls you. Very handy to have around, but only if you can blend with the sort of people he wants you charming."

"So this is on his orders?" I asked cautiously. I wanted to believe Monro enjoyed my company, but...

"Not at all," Monro said. "I would consider you a friend whatever Kenway thought. But he is quite taken with you."

I nodded thoughtfully at that, trying to disguise the little flush of pleasure I felt at hearing it. I'd been _quite taken_ with Master Kenway from the moment I saw him, and hearing the feeling was at least a little mutual felt good.

"Which reminds me," Monro continued. "We must send you to a tailor. I have the name of an excellent one to pass on to you. On the Order's pound, don't worry."

I hadn't worried. I could afford my own tailoring by this point--the Order was paying my expenses and an allowance more generous than anything I could have imagined. I had more money than I knew how to spend.

"Very kind of you, sir."

"Master Kenway's idea. I wouldn't dress you up like a powdered tart myself, but he's got _designs_. Ideas for the future. Ideas that involve silk waistcoats."

I had trouble imagining what kind of ideas those might be, but I wasn't about to argue. It would have been nice to have something nice, for once.

"Ah, well, if it's what Master Kenway wants..."

Monro smiled. "That's the spirit. Now, let me get out those maps and we'll get back to saving the world, shall we?"


	3. Chapter 3

At meeting after meeting, Monro at first taught me to handle myself in polite society--how to eat, when to bow, how to address people correctly, what to think about wine and whiskey, how to dress, and so on.

But more and more often, he taught me those things in relation to what Master Kenway would like.

Did he know? Had I asked too many questions about him? Had Monro realised that I'd taken one look at him and known that I wanted him to bed me almost more than I wanted to see the next sunrise, that my eagerness in study was one part self-betterment and one part lust for Kenway and the desire to be the kind of person he could look at and feel lust for in return?

"Shay," Monro continued, since I hadn't answered his last comment about what _Master Kenway_ would like.

I blinked. "Sorry, sir. I... I was distracted."

"I might've said something earlier," Monro began. "But I think it's time I made it clear that I saw how you looked at Master Kenway. And, for the record, how he looked at you."

What?

"You suit one another," Monro continued. "Very well. And he has more use for you than even he knows. I see great things for you, and Haytham Kenway is a dear friend. I'd like to see him _with_ someone like you. With your loyalty."

Well.

That was a surprise.

"Are you suggesting...?"

"Yes," Monro interrupted. "And more besides. That's why I've been teaching you, among other things, to walk on Haytham's level. And I think you're very nearly ready."

"Very nearly?" I asked, fighting for my voice not to tremble. Fear and anticipation roiled in my gut, sudden uncertainty about what was really expected of me here.

I wanted what Monro was offering. The knowledge I needed to have Haytham Kenway for myself.

There wasn't much I wasn't willing to do for it.

"You need final proof of your worth not _just_ as a pretty young thing, but as a potential new initiate. I've received intelligence that one of the Assassin gangs is holding your old ship."

That got my attention.

"The _Morrigan_?" I asked.

"The very same," Monro agreed. "There's also the matter of one of your... potential brethren being taken captive. We'd both be very grateful if you got him back in one piece."

A final test, then. Fair enough. I was game for it.

"Tell me where, and your man's as good as free."

Monro smiled.

***

Bathed, dressed, powdered and primped and in my very best waistcoat--silk, just as Monro had said--I knocked one gloved hand against Haytham Kenway's front door.

The assault on Fort Arsenal had been a success, Gist was recovering well--though he'd be wearing one helluva bruise for a few days--and the _Morrigan_ was mine to command once more.

I didn't even need to fake the confident set of my shoulders tonight. I _was_ confident. Overflowing with confidence--and excitement, since I half expected...

Well, I wasn't sure how Haytham felt about taking things slow, but Monro had hinted that there was consummation in my immediate future. I'd just about scrubbed the top layer off my skin in anticipation.

A servant answered the door, announced me, and then ushered me into what I soon realised was Haytham's private study.

"Master Cormac," he said from the other side of his desk, eyes roving up and down my body. "No, _Captain_ Cormac now, isn't it? I hear congratulations are in order."

"Thank you, sir," I nodded, but not too deeply. After all, I was a sea captain now, and while Haytham was a wealthy man, he had no title outside of that of Grand Master of the Colonial Rite.

And I wasn't a Templar yet.

"And saviour to one Christopher Gist," Haytham continued. "We have much to thank you for."

"Thought I was here to give _you_ a report, sir," I said slyly. I was starting to think Monro was right. I wasn't here for a report at all. "You seem to know all already."

"And yet I would hear it from your lips," he responded, eyes dropping to them. "But not until we've sat down to dinner, at least. Monro really has done you up nicely, hasn't he?"

"He's been very generous with his advice, sir," I agreed. Scarlet, he'd told me, would suit both my colouring and Haytham's tastes. The waistcoat was scarlet, and some of the trims, set against a deep blue and the crispest white I'd ever seen. I never could have kept whites this white, but my housekeeper said there was a trick to it.

In any case, it was _clearly_ working for Haytham. He couldn't take his piercing eyes off me.

The faintest stirring of lust curled up in the pit of my belly.

Yes. I was happy for him to bed me tonight--and tomorrow night, and the night after. I'd certainly worked hard enough for it.

"And very accurate, I'd say. We'll make a real gentleman out of you yet. Especially now that you're a captain. Perfectly respectable company, I'd say."

So this was what Haytham wanted, then, after all. Someone useful to hang off his arm, look pretty, make for _respectable company_ , and hear and see everything he heard and saw and more besides.

And I wanted to be that for him. Suddenly, overwhelmingly, I wanted to be _one_ of them.

Or rather, I'd wanted it for a while, but I hadn't really admitted it even to myself until now.

Haytham's pretty lips quirked as though he'd sensed the change in me, and I knew for certain that not only did I _want_ this, but that it was on offer. All of it.

Tonight promised to be an interesting one.

***

Haytham did at least have the decency to wait until the table was cleared before looking me up and down like he'd been saving me for afters.

He _had,_ of course. That was the whole point.

I sipped the tiny glass of sherry I'd been left, trying to think of something clever to say about it but coming up blank.

"Awful, isn't it?" Haytham asked, sipping from his own glass.

"Truth be told, sir, I haven't developed a taste for it. All much of a muchness."

What was the point in lying? He might have wanted me to _look_ the part, but in private, there was no use pretending to be anything I wasn't. He could either take it or leave it.

I hoped to God he'd take it, but that was neither here nor there.

"Ah. Well. I won't bore you with my opinions, then," he said.

"Happy to listen, sir." I shrugged. "Might learn a thing or two."

That, somehow, earned me a laugh. A genuine one, and not at my expense, either.

"You want this badly enough to listen to me prattle endlessly about the relative merits of fortified wines? I'm flattered."

I wet my lips. Well. At least that was confirmation that we were both on the same page.

"I do," I admitted. "Though I doubt you'd bore me. You haven't bored me yet."

Haytham smiled wryly, then stood and offered his hand to me. I took it, allowing him to help me rise, and then watched in awe as he drew it up to his lips and kissed the knuckles. For a moment, my heart stopped beating.

And then his eyes met mine, a tiny smile playing around his lips, and the blood all rushed back at once, pounding in my ears.

"Bed, Captain Cormac? I think we've waited long enough to satisfy decency."

I nodded, and let him lead me into the next room, heart in my throat.

"Monro's advice really _was_ excellent," he said, sliding his hands over the red silk of my waistcoat. "He sent you here wrapped up in a bow for me."

"I asked him to tell me how," I admitted. I hadn't just been delivered by Monro--I'd asked him to deliver me.

Haytham's eyes flashed in the low light. "Good. I wouldn't like you to think your induction into the Order would rest on... this. No. You will have your place regardless," he said, playing with one of my buttons. "Still interested?"

I swallowed. This was it.

"Yes, sir."

Haytham's whole handsome face lit up. "I can't tell you how pleased I am to hear it," he said, voice low. "I believe this will be... _very_ satisfying. For both of us."

He undressed me with practiced fingers, lingering over soft fabrics and sensitive places, teasing me through my clothes with his agonising slowness and the way he kept me, without saying a thing, from touching back. I closed my eyes, letting his touch flow over me like gentle waves, a low flame of arousal building and building in the pit of my stomach.

By the time my shirt was fluttering to the floor, I was tenting my breeches. He smirked at me, but a quick glance showed that he wasn't far behind.

And had nothing at all to be ashamed of in the nether regions.

"How do you want...?"

Haytham met my gaze curiously. "I'd rather planned to ask _you_. This _is_ a reward, after all. For all that you've done for us. A little something extra for a man who has exceeded every expectation put forth for him, and then some."

"I..."

Well. If it was _my_ reward, no harm in asking.

"I'd like to be fucked, sir," I said. I could just imagine Haytham holding me down, looming over me, rocking into my body, the stretch and burn giving way to sheer pleasure under his careful, clearly-experienced hands.

It'd been so long. I hadn't trusted anyone to do it in an age. But I trusted him.

When Haytham looked up at me, his eyes were dark, wide pupils ringed only by the thinnest sliver of blue-grey. Oh yes. He wanted to fuck me as badly as I wanted him to.

Just as well. Wouldn't do to ask the Grand Master for something he didn't like.

"Oh, I think that could definitely be arranged," he said, looking me up and down.

Haytham undressed me the rest of the way like he was unwrapping something precious--a Chinese vase, or a religious relic. Peeling my clothes away and running his fingers over my skin, soft and delicate and with just a touch of reverence to it.

I'd never been treated like this, and I wasn't sure how to handle it.

He eased me onto the bed, both of us gloriously naked, his cock standing proud, straining toward his belly, big and thick as I would have expected, the head already dark and glistening.

I stretched out under him from my fingers to my toes, excited to be so obviously wanted.

Haytham's hands roved over me, prodding and testing, searching for the places that made me gasp and moan before he produced a bottle of oil from God knew where and coated his fingers.

"You've done this before?" he asked, eyeing me carefully. I nodded, at a loss for words, and the small, wry smile he gave me warmed the pit of my belly.

And I _had_ done this before, but the way he touched me was different, his fingers slow and careful, pausing to twist and stroke and tease, treating this like it was part of the fun for him, his cock leaking steadily as he opened me up.

I'd never gasped and moaned my way through this before, never stayed hard the entire time, and I didn't know what kind of magic Haytham was doing on me, but I wanted him to keep it up.

"I'd like you to look at me," he said, and I couldn't do anything other than nod. I wanted to look at him, too. Promise him that I was his, that I'd be _good_ , that I could be anything he asked me to be.

And then he was _finally_ inside me and the whole world narrowed down to the hard length of his cock and the way it seemed to press up against every sensitive spot at once, to his hands roaming up my chest, fingers brushing a nipple, one hand sliding all the way up to my neck, his fingers just barely resting there. Not a threat, but a test.

I held his gaze as he rocked into me, fingers tightening a fraction on my throat, and then a rare smile breaking over his face when I didn't so much as flinch.

He surged forward, sealing our lips together as his hips sped up, and sped up, and _sped_ up, until the bed was banging against the wall with every thrust and the breath was knocked out of me and all I could do was gasp and moan and reach down for my cock.

Haytham batted my hand away with a growl, gripping me tight, tugging on me in time with his own thrusts, and a handful of heartbeats later the world went white as I finished, blindingly hard, and then arched off the bed again as I felt him come inside me.

_Fuck_.

The next thing I knew, Haytham was collapsing onto the too-narrow mattress beside me, a satisfied sigh spilling from his lips.

"Oh, but you are _perfect_ ," he purred in my ear, and if I hadn't just come my cock would have been hard in a heartbeat.

"Thank you, sir."

Haytham laughed, a deep sound that seemed to well up from the pit of his belly, warm and sincere.

"Welcome to the Order, Shay. We're very pleased to have you."


	4. Chapter 4

I could barely keep my eyes open as I stood on Haytham's doorstep, waiting to give him a full report over the... _incident_ with Hope.

I wished it hadn't gone the way it had, and my heart was heavy, but more than anything, I wanted to collapse into a warm bed and sleep for a few hours.

I'd have to chase after the rest of them next, do something about their damned fool plans and put a stop to it, but I was useless until the last of the poison wore off.

Haytham himself answered the door, and unfortunately for him, my knees chose that moment to give out on me.

"Shay?" he asked, concern in his voice, strong arms holding me up.

I let myself lean against his chest, grateful for the few moments of not having to take my own weight.

"Caught a few lungfuls of that gas the Assassins have been workin' on," I said, trying to keep my tone light. "Nothing to worry about."

Haytham didn't say anything.

Instead, he lifted me clear off the floor, carrying me like a new bride up the stairs and into his bedroom.

Well. This evening had suddenly taken a turn for the better.

"Hope?" he asked.

"Dead," I said, biting my lip to stop it trembling.

I wasn't here to give a report. Not really. Haytham had spies everywhere, he'd know what'd gone on soon enough.

No, I was here because I _needed_ him. Because going back to my own bed and lying in it alone would have been torture tonight, and I _knew_ I was no good to him as anything but a bed warmer tonight, but I hoped that'd be enough.

"I'm sorry," Haytham said, deft fingers unbuttoning my waistcoat. "I'll have these washed. No sense in you carrying that toxin around with you, breathing it in off your clothes."

He stripped me down without another word, leaving me in just my drawers--clean, thank God--and took the clothes away.

I spread out on the bed, deciding that he was welcome to sleep on top of me as long as I could lie down for a while.

When Haytham returned, he stripped down himself, pulled on a nightshirt with enough lace on it to supply a haberdasher for a month, and then climbed over me to lie with his back against the wall, shifting me around until my back was pressed up against him.

"Your lungs will clear much more quickly on your side," he said by way of explanation. "Go to sleep, Shay."

I didn't exactly need telling. My eyes and limbs were heavy, and Haytham was warm, and all I wanted was a good night's sleep. And not to wake up alone.

"We'll take care of you," Haytham promised, breath ghosting over my ear as he spoke against it. "You'll always have the Order now."

That was some comfort, considering the day I'd had.

Just as the last of my mind slipped into sleep, I thought I heard another murmur.

"You'll always have me."

***

"Captain Cormac," Haytham pronounced slowly, looking me up and down with a glint in his eye. "You _do_ tidy up nicely, don't you?"

My heart swelled at his approval. I _did_ think I'd gotten the idea right, and it was nice to have confirmation that I'd hit the mark. At least, as far as Haytham was concerned.

He might've cared about impressing a load of other people, but I only cared about what he thought. Whether or not I was good enough for _him_.

Haytham offered me his arm like a proper gentleman, and I took it without a second thought and let him lead me away from the carriage I'd arrived in and toward the governor's house.

_House_ was a bit of an understatement. This was a mansion if ever I'd seen one, and an _intimate gathering_ that turned out to be made up of a hundred people or more. Half of New York seemed to be milling around--at least, the moneyed half.

When I was curled up in Haytham's bed, in his relatively modest rooms, it was easy to forget that they were temporary, that he was a man worth a fortune in his own right, in charge of an organisation that between them could have bought out half the colonies.

Seeing him among his own kind, though, it was impossible not to look at him for what he was. The fact that I didn't look completely out of place standing next to him was a miracle.

"You're going to be _very_ popular," Haytham murmured in my ear. "The crowd here will be excited to hear the tales of a sea captain."

And he was right. I barely had a moment to myself all evening when someone wasn't pressing a flute of champagne into my hand or taking my elbow to talk to me about one thing or another, listening to stories, expressing interest in sailing ships.

By the time Haytham came to reclaim me from a band of ladies who were very eager to hear about some of my less savoury adventures, I was lightheaded, giddy, and more than ready for him to take me home and have his way.

I'd also filled my social calendar for the year in one night, it felt like. Haytham was invited, too--as _my_ plus-one, this time.

I grinned at the thought as he pushed me into a quiet alcove outside, pressing his body up against me. He'd brought me here as a kind of trophy on his own arm, and I was walking away with him on mine.

Haytham's mouth was hot and sweet, and a flood of lust washed around the pit of my stomach at the thought of how eager _he_ had to be to drag me aside in public instead of waiting until we were alone. His lips tasted of champagne, too, and his body was warm, and I was happy enough to be pinned against cold stone with one of his hands on my hip and the other curled around my neck, thumb tracing the line of my jaw as he laid claim with lips and tongue.

This was what I'd wanted. What I'd wanted the entire time. To be _his_.

Finally, I was walking on his level. Just like Monro had said.

"Oh, Shay," Haytham murmured, resting his forehead against mine, still stroking my jaw. "I'm not sure what possible deed in my life was good enough to earn your perfection."

"You were kind to me," I said honestly. "You treated me like I was worth something when I'd been thrown away. You and Monro."

"Anyone who couldn't see your worth would have to be a fool," Haytham said. "Can I beg you to come home with me tonight? You've been away so long, and I..."

"Want me?" I asked, anticipation sitting heavy in my belly.

"Desperately," Haytham agreed. "You have no idea."

I did have _some_ idea. I'd been away, too. And I'd thought of him, and I'd kept my cock to myself the whole time because he was the only one I wanted.

"Make your excuses," I murmured in his ear. "And we'll get out of here."

***

It was different this time.

We started out like boys playing because we were both too drunk to stand without support, laughing and pawing clumsily at each other's clothes until we were both gloriously naked. I dropped to my knees, knowing by now how well Haytham liked having his cock sucked, and how well I liked _doing_ it, and he came down my throat in the space of a minute, fingers tangled in my hair, pulling it out of the ribbon it was tied with.

I swallowed an apology out of his mouth, not wanting to hear that he was at all sorry for how badly he wanted me, how easily I could strip away all his vaulted self-control and leave him gasping with need. We stumbled to the bed, limbs tangling, his fingers circling my cock, stroking lazily, both of us too busy kissing to care about getting this _right_.

All I wanted to do was touch him, and all he wanted to do was touch me.

And when we finally sobered up enough to find the oil, _that_ was different, too. Slow and steady and easy, Haytham rocking into me gentle as a river current on a clear day, kissing and biting at my mouth until both of us were too sensitive for it, retreating to pant against each other's necks.

Tiny, breathy encouragements passed between us, trading an _oh, Shay,_ for a _Haytham, please,_ as we eased each other to the peak, soft and unhurried until we each tensed and moaned with release.

We stayed close in the aftermath, skin sticking, breath slowing, bodies cooling.

I'd never been happier in my life than I was in that moment.

"I think," Haytham said, pausing to draw another breath as the effort of speaking proved too much for him. "I think you are the most wonderful creature I'm ever likely to meet."

No one had ever said anything like that to me before, but I could still hear the unspoken promise hidden between the words.

_I love you_.

And I loved him with my whole heart, too, and there was nothing in the world that would have convinced me to give him up.

"Think you're likely right," I teased, knowing he knew exactly what I thought of him. Haytham Kenway was the best thing that'd ever happened to me.

Him, and George Monro.


	5. Chapter 5

"Colonel Monro!" I stepped back from the door to my lodgings, giving the Colonel space to come inside. "You needn't have come all the way down here, I would've come to you."

"I was in the neighbourhood," Monro said, looking about my room with interest. It was humble, but comfortable, and I'd even started collecting a few things here and there, souvenirs of my adventures on display.

"Can I offer you tea?" I asked, heading for the door to call for a pot. It'd taken some time getting used to that, but I had the hang of it now and I'd even managed to stop trying to take the tray at the door out of embarrassment at being waited on.

"No, I won't stay," Monro said. My heart sank. I hadn't had the chance to talk with him in a while, and I'd missed his company.

Much as I enjoyed Haytham's, Monro was different. Easier, in some ways.

Haytham was the shining North star I used to guide my ship, but Monro was... Monro had been like an old friend from our first meeting. I was _comfortable_ with him in a way I thought probably _no one_ was comfortable with Haytham, much as I wanted to be.

That kind of closeness would take years to spring up, I thought.

But Monro and I had just... fit. I understood him, and I felt like he understood me.

Deep down, Haytham and I were made of the same stuff, but so different on the surface that it took us hours to get down to those identical cores.

I was lucky to have both of them. Just one or the other wouldn't have been enough.

"I was just stopping by to let you know that I've been offered a post at Fort William Henry."

"Oh," I said, stomach sinking to match my heart. Monro was leaving.

Fort William Henry wasn't _so_ far away, but...

It meant that I'd have to leave New York--leave Haytham--to see Monro. Which probably meant that I wouldn't see so much of him.

"I plan to accept on Monday," he said. "And I expect to have left by the end of the week. I was hoping we might... that you might come to dinner, at some point before then? Haytham as well, of course, if I may be so bold as to invite him through you."

I snorted. "Everyone else does. Drives him mad."

Haytham was a charming man, but he didn't _mean_ it. He didn't like people, for the most part. I did, and unfortunately for him, when I was around, the difference showed. People extended invitations to me first because they _liked_ me, even though Haytham was more use to them.

I'd stopped laughing about it when he'd pointed out that they were treating me like his missus.

Monro's face lit up. "Then be sure to tell him I did so," he said with a glint in his eye. "Can't hurt to keep him on his toes."

I chuckled, already imagining Haytham's face when I relayed all this to him.

"Congratulations on the posting, by the way," I said, forcing myself to smile about it.

Monro was leaving.

The thought made my stomach twist all over again.

"Thank you," Monro nodded. "And I believe belated congratulations are in order to you. You've made yourself... very useful to Master Kenway."

Something about Monro's tone sat wrong with me. He sounded... sad? Mournful, even.

But he'd set me up for all this. Wasn't it what he'd wanted? He said I'd be good for Haytham, and I was.

"He says people are starting to treat me like his wife," I said, hoping the joke might cheer Monro up a touch.

A snort escaped him, which seemed like a good sign. "Does he, now? And is he treating you like a wife?"

"A wife wouldn't put up with the half of it." I smiled wryly. "Lucky he's got me, really."

"He is," Monro said seriously. "He *is* lucky to have you, Shay. And don't you let him forget it."

"Yes, sir," I nodded, taking that to heart.

Monro had been the first to see something worth salvaging in me. I wouldn't forget that in a hurry.

"What have I said about calling me *sir*?" Monro asked. "There's no need for it. We're equals, you and I. Indeed, keep this up, and I may one day be calling *you* sir."

I shook my head. "No. No, I don't think I could handle that. Not coming from you."

Monro laughed, but it was still a sad sound. Maybe he was sorry to be leaving, too?

"Then you'd best stop doing it to me, or I'll make a point of it," he teased, but the smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "I must be going. Give Haytham my regards, if you see him before I do."

"Will do," I said, biting my tongue to keep from adding *sir* to the end. "Good to see you, Colonel."

"You too, Shay. You too."

***

I turned up on Haytham's doorstep desperate and needy for reasons I couldn't quite explain, but he took pity on me all the same. Brought me inside, stripped me off with the same reverence as ever, bedded me, and then curled up beside me.

By the time I was half-asleep, I was just starting to realise that the part where he curled up beside me was the bit I really _needed_.

Not that I would've said no to the rest.

"Did you know Monro was being given a post away from New York?" I asked, not sure what I wanted the answer to be.

"I was aware of the possibility. I take it from your question that it has been formally offered."

"Aye," I said, taking the hand Haytham had splayed on my hip and playing with his fingers. Long and elegant and ink-stained, as ever.

"Does he have to go?"

That was the question playing on my mind. Was Monro leaving because he had no choice, or could he have stayed?

Why did I _care_? He was his own man with his own life to lead. A friend, and one I'd miss, but if this was what he wanted, then who was I to mope about it?

"The posting isn't set in stone. Any one of a number of men could fill it," Haytham said, voice slow but not so sleepy that I felt guilty interrogating him.

"Then why's he going? Doesn't the Order have need for him here?"

"Monro has a way of making himself useful wherever he is," Haytham responded, pressing a kiss against the back of my neck. "Perhaps he has his reasons for wanting to leave New York. Perhaps he feels he's done all he can here."

I sighed. The last thing I wanted to do was whine about this, but I couldn't help feeling, right in the centre of my chest, that Monro was _leaving me_.

And I had Haytham, like I was supposed to. Like Monro had wanted me to. But it wasn't...

Enough.

It wasn't enough.

I wasn't sure how to say that without sounding like a child throwing a fit, so I didn't say it at all. But I _felt_ it.

Monro had been there for me every step of the way. We still had regular afternoon teas and dinner engagements. He was my first point of contact for new missions and information I needed, not Haytham.

Not that Haytham kept things from me, not that I minded the idea of working more closely with him now--at least, I assumed that was what would happen--but...

I liked Monro.

And I didn't _want_ him to leave.

And it really wasn't my place to say, was it?

***

Haytham woke me with an insistent kiss and his cock pressed against my hip, and who was I to say no?

I kissed my way down his body, pausing to stick my tongue in his belly button and make him hiss and jerk, grinning as I eased my way down further, quickly running out of room in his narrow bed.

He'd promised me half a dozen times that once he sorted out permanent housing, there'd be a bigger bed. I could hardly wait.

In the meantime, I licked and sucked my way down to his cock, nuzzling the length and pressing a wet kiss to the neat, tight balls beneath, licking with the flat of my tongue all the way up to the tip of him and then swallowing him down with practiced ease.

There was no easier way to get Haytham off, and I would've argued this was the most _fun_ , too. I loved his fingers twisting in my hair, the scent of him filling my nostrils, the taste of him bursting over my tongue as I worked him closer and closer to the edge, swallowing down everything he spilled along the way.

I could never get enough of him. Not in a hundred years. Not in a thousand.

"Shay," he gasped, hips jerking, fingers tightening. I could feel how close he was, practically taste him about to come, and dear God was I desperate for it. I needed him more than I ever remembered, needed the comfort of knowing he was here, that I could get him off, that he wanted _me_ , too.

A broken cry signalled him tipping over the edge and crashing down, and all I had to do was relax my throat and take it, my own cock throbbing between my legs as I swallowed around him, licking and sucking to make sure I caught everything.

He beckoned me back up the bed the moment he was done, pulling me into place so I was perched over him, gripping the headboard for support, sinking into the heat of his mouth.

Haytham didn't do this for me as often as I did it for him--he didn't like it so much as I did, and I'd never minded--but there was something... _something_ about it this morning, an urgency I hadn't felt before.

He gripped my hips like I might float away any moment, fingers digging deep enough into my skin to leave bruises, and I came with a shout and the thought of wearing a mark he'd put there dancing in my head.

He licked me clean idly, humming as he tasted me, and then finally let me go.

My legs near enough gave out on me before I'd climbed back in beside him, curling up under the blankets and settling myself in the hold we always shared after, loose but still close, a reminder that we actually _liked_ being near each other, that this had never just been about sex.

The sex was incredible, but I would have stayed with Haytham if it stopped today.

I loved him with all my heart.

We were quiet for long moments after, both of us lost in our own heads. Normally, I would've taken it upon myself to pull Haytham out of his, but this morning I was just as stuck in my own.

"You know," Haytham spoke up first. His turn to throw the rope out, then. "Monro is very fond of you."

"I know," I said, unsure what Haytham was getting at. He never said things idly. He was always moving toward a conclusion, whether he said it aloud or not.

"And you are very fond of him," Haytham said.

"I'd be dead without him," I said, and then felt guilty for not telling the whole truth. "And he's taught me so much. Been as kind to me as you have."

"Kinder, even," Haytham said. "And for rather less reward."

That made me pause.

Did Monro want...?

He couldn't could he? He wouldn't have packaged me up neatly for Haytham if he was interested in...

And he must've realised he could have had me any time he wanted? I was so grateful to him that I would've done anything.

_And_ he'd been good to me. And he smiled at me, real, genuine smiles that made his eyes sparkle, and he'd always been quick to appreciate my work and help me better myself.

"He's invited us both to dinner before he leaves," I said, knowing there was some part of this picture I wasn't seeing just yet.

Maybe I'd never see it, or maybe Haytham would take pity on me and show me what it was.

Haytham hummed, his knuckles brushing against my fingertips. "I'll call for breakfast, shall I? You must be starving."

He was climbing over me before I could answer one way or another.

I'd just have to consider what he was getting at on my own.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you it wasn't abandoned!! :D

"You are unhappy," Haytham said, pushing a cup of tea toward me across the breakfast table.

Normally, I took pleasure in pouring for him, remembering exactly how he took it down to the last drop of milk. A tiny, affectionate service that I knew he enjoyed.

This morning I'd been so far away I hadn't noticed the pot being left in the first place.

"No," I said.

Haytham looked at me.

"Yes," I admitted. But I didn't know _why_.

No, that was a lie. Monro was accepting the command at Fort William Henry today.

_Leaving me_.

"You will see Monro at dinner on Wednesday. Before he leaves," Haytham said. "It isn't a funeral, Shay."

Then why did it _feel_ like one? And why was Haytham being so cold about this? He was so kind when I was upset.

"You like Monro," I said, still trying to feel out my own thoughts. Haytham was good at that. Clarifying things for me. There was something about the way his mind worked that made him easy to bounce things off.

"I do, very much. He is a loyal, competent man, with kindness in his heart and a very sharp mind. The embodiment of what a Templar should be."

Yes. I'd thought that when I first met him, though I'd thought he was more what an _Assassin_ should be. Since then, I'd learned that there was little difference between the ideal Templar and the ideal Assassin, though a Templar needn't necessarily scale a building.

Haytham had told me once that he'd always wondered what would happen if he could blend the two ideologies, and I thought that meant that he was glad I existed and liked him.

"Yes, but you _like_ him. Personally, I mean."

"I do," Haytham agreed again. "His forthrightness is refreshing and he his opinions are always nuanced and considered. In times when I feel particularly homesick, he is a balm."

I'd never thought of Haytham feeling homesick before. But then, I'd never really called anywhere in particular home. The _Morrigan_ , maybe, but not... not a place.

New York was as close as I came to a home on account of being born here, and I was sitting in a beautifully-appointed townhouse not a twenty minute walk from where I'd grown up.

Haytham had a whole other home. One I'd only ever seen in passing.

Monro meant something to him, too. So why wasn't he saying anything? Why didn't he feel like I felt.

"Then why don't you care that he's leaving?" I asked, sharper than I meant to. The thought that a man like George Monro could be lost to anyone without them being distraught hurt me, a deep, aching hurt that made me bristle at Haytham.

A man I loved.

"I could ask you why you care so much that he _is,_ " Haytham said, with what felt like uncharacteristic cruelty. "After all, you've told him nothing of the sort. Simply accepted that he will go and not even suggested that he _might_ stay. I thought perhaps you'd outgrown him."

"Outgrown him?" I asked, teacup clattering loudly in the saucer as I set it down too heavily, the first low heat of an argument welling up in the pit of my stomach.

_Hold your temper_ , Achilles' voice echoed in my head.

That was the last thing that was likely to stop me now.

" _Outgrown_ him," I repeated. "How can you say that?"

Haytham sipped his tea.

I stood, slamming my hand on the table, tears stinging at my eyes. "That man saved my _life_. He's done more for me than anyone else ever has, and for precious little reward. He's treated me like family since the day and hour he found me half-dead and I owe him everything I am, everything I have now."

"You're getting very emotional, Shay," Haytham said, infuriatingly calm even in the face of the worst of my temper he'd ever seen. "What do you care if an acquaintance moves a short sail away?"

"I love him!" I snapped.

My ears rang as I realised what I'd said, horror dawning over me. Sand filled my throat like I'd swallowed a mouthful of water from the seabed, lungs burning as I tried to breathe through the wave of panic and nausea.

I'd never told Haytham I loved him, and now I was shouting at him that I loved someone else.

The room swayed like a ship in a thunderstorm.

Haytham's face softened, and I watched as though through a glass as he set his tea down, stood, and closed the distance between us.

The pounding in my head shrank back to a dull roar as he tucked a stray hair behind my ear, tracing the shell with the tips of my fingers.

_Don't make me choose_ , I thought, biting my lip as I braced myself for what came next.

"I know, Shay," Haytham said, voice soft as ever. "But I don't think you did. I'm sorry for pushing you like this, but time is of the essence."

What?

"Sir, I..."

"Sir, is it?" Haytham asked lightly, trying to sound like the tremble in his voice was laughter. "I've been demoted."

I blinked at him.

"You don't... you knew. You're not upset?"

Haytham shook his head silently, thumb stroking up and down the length of my jaw.

There were tears in his eyes. I could barely see them past my own, but they were there.

I'd never seen Haytham cry and I wasn't sure I could handle it.

"I would hate you to think you needed to choose between us. Unless that's what you want?"

Now it was my turn to shake my head. No. No, that was the last thing I wanted.

I'd taken so long to come around to understanding why I was upset about Monro leaving because I hated the thought of _why._

Why couldn't I just love Haytham and be happy?

Haytham kissed me, soft and sweet, the taste of tea lingering on his lips and tongue, the familiar scent of him filling my senses like it always did, making everything brighter and sharper.

"I believe Assassins have a saying that ends _everything is permitted_. Templars, similarly, rarely feel that anything is off-limits to us," he said. "What would you have, Shay, if you could have anything?"

"Both," I admitted, a heavy coil of rope tightening around my guts even as I said it, the sheer blind _selfishness_ of it enough to make me feel sick. "I wouldn't choose. I'd keep you both."

"Then I would be very pleased if you kept calling me Haytham in private," he said, resting his forehead against mine. "And gracing my bed at your leisure. And I think I can safely say that Colonel Monro would be very pleased to be called George in private and have you grace _his_ bed when the mood strikes. I do not _own_ you, Shay, and I would not want to. I love you and want to see you happy."

_I love you_.

I wasn't convinced Haytham had ever said that in his life before. Not since he was a child, anyway.

"I love you," I said automatically, the words spilling out before I had a hope of stopping them. I'd thought it so many times, but I'd never felt as though I could _say_ it before now.

A light sparkled in Haytham's eyes. "I am gratified to hear it. Misjudging you would have been terribly embarrassing."

Haytham kissed me again, achingly tender, my toes curling in my boots and a shiver of heat rolling down my back.

"Do not worry for a moment that I will _ever_ tire of that," he murmured, forehead resting against mine again. "But you really must go if you plan to catch Colonel Monro before he accepts that command."

Panicky urgency washed away the happy warmth of arousal in an instant, my whole body suddenly alert.

"I have to go," I said, backing a half step away from Haytham. "I... are you sure about this?"

A warm smile told me everything I needed to know.

"Quite sure," Haytham said. "You will have to run."

"I will," I said, still hardly believing what I was about to do. "I have to..."

I took a step back, then changed my mind and surged forward, kissing Haytham hard and needy as he made a surprised sound, muscles tensing out of habit. He told me that one of these days I'd get myself killed pouncing on him like this, but I knew better. Haytham could no more hurt me than fly in the air.

"Thank you," I panted against his lips, hope swelling in my heart. "I love you."

"I know," Haytham said, giving me a nudge. "Now _go_. Before you miss him."

I nodded the whole way out of Haytham's townhouse, blinking in the bright sunlight outside for a moment, and then taking off as fast as my legs would carry me in the direction of Monro's rooms.

If he'd have me, and Haytham would have me, I was the luckiest man on God's little green Earth.

 

***

 

I scared Monro's housekeeper half to death on my way in, slipping past her and leaping over the bannister of the stairs to save a few more seconds on my way up, a shocked cry following me to the door to his study.

Sweat soaked into my collar as I raised my hand to knock, fear that I was too late, or that Haytham was somehow wrong welling up in the pit of my stomach.

"Shay?" Colonel Monro blinked at me as he opened the door, a crease forming between his brows.

I'd planned out a whole speech on the run over, but it left my head as soon as I opened my mouth.

"I..." I tried, urgency welling up in my chest, stomach twisting. "It. I..."

Monro stood and waited, patient as ever, and that was all I'd needed to see. I surged forward, close enough to swallow his surprised yelp by the time it escaped him, mouth sealing over his as a wave of giddiness washed over me, heart full to bursting with excitement.

I kicked the door closed behind us as I backed him up, pinning him to the bookcase I'd borrowed half the contents of by now, sighing with happiness as Monro's fingers curled around the side of my coat. Holding on, not pushing away.

"Don't go," I pleaded, tears welling up again. "I want you to stay."

Monro stared at me, clever eyes calculating, flitting back and forth over my face while he thought.

"Shay," he repeated, voice softer this time, eyes twinkling in the low light of the study as he looked at me. _Really_ looked, like he did sometimes, like he could see right into my soul.

Haytham did that, too.

"Haytham sent me," I said, wondering if he was worried about that, about what he'd think if he ever knew.

"To...?"

"To ask you to stay," I said. "He knows it'd break my heart if you left. And I... I know now it was breaking your heart to stay. I understand. But I want... Haytham said Templars never think they can't have something."

"And you want...?"

"Both of you." I bit my lip. "I know it's selfish, I know maybe you don't want to share, but... can't hurt to ask, can it? To let you know that... I could never pick, I don't want to, and I don't want you to make me."

Monro's face softened. "Oh, Shay. It's not selfish, not at all. Your generosity knows no bounds."

That... that I didn't understand.

"You are offering to share your light and warmth and youthful charm with two men who hardly deserve you between them. That is not selfish."

"You deserve me," I said, horrified by the thought that Monro might think otherwise. "I owe you my life."

"But not your affection. You will never _owe_ me that." Monro reached out, thumb stroking my jaw, fingertips toying with a stray strand of hair. "Is this really what you want, Shay?"

"It is," I said, feeling a knot unravel below my heart at admitting it. Admitting it to the person who could make it happen, who I'd been so afraid of losing. "Will you stay? I know it's a lot to ask."

Monro shook his head. "Nothing at all to ask. I am more than happy to continue to render my services to the Army and Master Kenway here."

I smiled at Monro calling him _Master Kenway_.

"I think, between you and me, that he'd like it if you called him Haytham. In private."

Monro arched one eloquent eyebrow that asked me if I should be making that offer on his behalf.

"He would," I insisted. "But you can ask him yourself."

"I will," Monro said.

This was happening. It was _really_ happening.

"Can I call you George?" I asked, grinning so hard my face hurt.

"I'd be flattered," he said, fingers curled under my chin. "You really are stunning up close."

Laughter welled up in my chest. "Wait until you see me naked," I said. "Haytham stares."

"I'm afraid I will likely do the same," Monro murmured, warm eyes filled with awe.

I took the chance to kiss him again, letting myself feel and taste this time, getting used to the shape of his mouth, the way he smelled, the heat of his body.

Yes. Yes, _this_ was what I wanted. Not for Monro to package me up neatly for Haytham and then leave because the thought broke his heart.

"Come back with me," I murmured, mouthing my way along Monro's jaw. "I want you both."

Monro chuckled, low and rich and warm. "How could I say no to an invitation like that?"


	7. Chapter 7

Monro--George, that'd take some getting used to no matter how much I wanted to be used to it--undressed me with the care and patience and experience I expected, fingers gentle and precise on every buckle, button, and lacing.

Haytham had both hands on his shoulders, murmuring instructions and hints into his ear, soft and low and intimate.

The sight of the two of them together, conspiring to undo me, made tendrils of warmth wrap around my belly, tightening with every brush of Monro's--George's--fingers against my skin.

I didn't care about what I was calling him, I cared that he was _here_. I could get used to the rest later.

"He really is very sensitive," Haytham warned, unbuttoning Monro's waistcoat from behind with clever fingers. An image of the two of them together, touching and grinding and kissing, filled my mind all of a sudden, a wave of heat washing over me at the thought, cheeks flushing.

Haytham smiled a slow, smug smile at me from beside Monro's ear, his lips brushing the shell of it.

"You must be careful to touch him lightly," he continued. "Look for where his beautiful skin flushes and touch him _there_."

I hissed as Monro followed Haytham's instructions, teeth digging into my lip as he trailed his fingers from my navel to my hip, skin tingling in the wake of his touch.

Seeing Haytham share his hard-won knowledge just to please me made my heart feel overfull. I'd always love him, there was something about him that spoke to my mind and soul, but Monro spoke to my _heart_.

I loved him differently, but not less.

"Beautiful," Monro purred, awe in his eyes as he looked me over, naked except for my silk stockings, a gift I remembered him giving to me.

Should've known then. I hadn't thought anything of it at the time, but Haytham kept giving them to me, too. He kept giving them to me because he liked to run his fingers over them while I sat with my legs thrown over his lap, taking advantage of strong fingers to work the soreness out of them after a long day.

Now I'd have _two_ people I could convince to do that for me.

"Stunning," Haytham agreed. "You know, I begin to think I'll enjoy having someone to share him with."

I grinned at Haytham. He was taking this so much better than I expected.

"Go slow," Haytham advised. "He will curse you to begin with but thank you later."

My mouth fell open.

"You see?" Haytham said, a dangerous glint in his eyes. The kind of glint that meant he was in the mood to torture me.

Monro made a soft, sympathetic noise, and raised a hand to my cheek.

"I'm not sure I'd have the heart for it," he said. "I have seen him at death's door and wanted to give him the world for his sweetness."

I laughed as I surged forward to kiss him, keeping an ear out for any sense that Haytham was upset at seeing it and feeling his hand grip my waist. Possessive, but reassuring, and I could feel in his grip that he didn't mind, that he wasn't angry with me.

He was the one who'd pushed me to this, I wasn't sure why I was so worried.

No, that was a lie. The thought of losing him was more than I could bear, but I couldn't bear the thought of losing Monro any more readily.

It had to be both. My heart would break any other way.

Haytham helped me with the rest of Monro's clothes, the most explicit go-ahead I could imagine, and a knot in my chest eased.

He was still looking at me like I was the most precious thing in the world to him. I couldn't have lost that look.

"I want you both," I said softly as Haytham moved to back away. "I know I'm asking a lot."

Wonder broke over Haytham's face. "Oh, Shay," he murmured, running a fingertip along my jaw. "I am only backing off for Colonel Monro's comfort. It isn't _me_ he's interested in."

Monro turned to Haytham, mischief glinting in his eyes.

We were a lot alike, me and the Colonel.

Haytham's throat bobbed as he looked between the two of us, surprise and awe warring on his face.

"Oh," Haytham said, still trying to decide who to look at. "Oh," he repeated. "Well, umm. I'm very--"

Haytham didn't get to tell us how flattered he was before Monro swooped in, kissing him soundly, handing me a tiny part of the brief fantasy I'd had earlier.

Arousal flooded my belly, hot and tight.

_This_ was why Haytham didn't mind, I realised. Seeing someone else appreciate him was doing all kinds of nice things for me.

Now it was my turn to undress Haytham, fingers working efficiently on catches and buttons, deftly avoiding a cut or a prick from anything hidden among his clothes. I'd done this dozens of times now and it still felt as new and exciting as the first time, his trust in me something precious.

Monro kissed him like he had done me, soft and gentle, warm, but not _hungry_ , not desperate, not like I did. Sweet.

He was more settled than either of us, and, I realised, likely more experienced. Even than me, world-class tart that I was.

I grinned as my fingers brushed against Haytham's cock, hard as steel and flushed with blood.

"We haven't forgotten about you," Haytham murmured as both of them turned on me, lips kiss-swollen, eyes shining.

They herded me to the bed without giving me even half a chance to protest, Haytham pushing me back onto it and Monro following me down, sparks of pleasure trailing over my skin wherever he touched me.

Haytham peeled my stockings off, nuzzling his way down my calves and making my toes curl as he tickled the bottom of my feet.

"What _is_ he doing to you, hmm?" Monro asked, glancing down at Haytham. "Torture unbecoming of a gentleman."

I laughed, dizzy with happiness as Haytham crawled his way up my side, pressing a kiss to my hip, my ribs, and then going straight for my neck.

"You don't know the half of it," I said, grinning up at Monro, another wave of arousal washing over me at the thought that I had _both_ of them, and they both wanted me.

I barely went a breath between kisses as the two of them pounced, touching and stroking as I tried to get my hands on them, too, to learn Monro's body for the first time and indulge in Haytham's, familiar and comfortable.

They took their turns with me, passing me back and forth, smothering me with kisses and caresses until I was blind with pleasure and gasping for breath, ready to beg for release.

I found it in Monro's hand, confident fingers finishing me off as I sobbed through it, Haytham's hand wrapped around my thigh, squeezing tight as I came in wave after wave, shuddering with relief. I sank into the mattress, spent and relaxed, panting for breath as the room spun around my head.

"Oversensitive," Haytham murmured beside my ear. He hadn't come, and neither had Monro, but I thought maybe that was the plan.

"Charming," Monro said, pressing a kiss to my brow and settling in beside me, the bed barely wide enough for three grown men to be on it together.

I grinned up at him again, happiness filling my chest so full it was hard to breathe.

"He will hold up to another round," Haytham murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear with all the affection in the world. "And likely a third. One each?" he suggested, turning his attention to Monro.

"One each," Monro agreed.

This had worked out _much_ better than I expected.

 

***

 

_One year later..._

Haytham's fingers carded through my hair as I half-dozed with my head in his lap, curled up on one of the plush couches in his study.

He had, eventually, found a proper house. There were more rooms in it than I'd owned shirts before I met him.

I owned a lot more shirts now, but I still wasn't sure I had more of them than there were rooms in this house. I wasn't convinced I'd seen them all.

Just the important ones, like his bedroom.

A footman came and went, leaving him a note. Hired for their discretion in keeping Order business a secret and tact in not mentioning that their master kept a younger man in silks and furs and kisses, I never felt the need to move when one of them entered a room.

"Ah," Haytham said. "Shay, my love. Light of my life, warmer of my bed, keeper of my heart. I am required elsewhere."

I grunted, unhappy about being moved, but sat up all the same.

"I know, you live a life of unending hardship," Haytham said, brushing a kiss over my temple. "But the same note does bring some much happier news for you. I believe you'll find quite an appealing gift in George's study."

I blinked at him, unsure what that meant. George had left a full three months ago on unavoidable army business, and I hadn't been in his study since.

Haytham only offered me a cryptic smile, and stood. "Go," he said. "It will soothe the wound I've so callously inflicted on you by insisting on leaving this room from time to time."

"Careful, or you'll spend the night on that couch."

"If you threw me out of my own bedroom," Haytham said. "I would simply retire to yours."

I blew him a kiss as he left, and saw the hint of a smile on his face as he turned and disappeared through the door.

George's study, then.

I padded through the house, hesitating outside the door, and then pushed it open, wondering what could possibly be on the other side.

My heart leapt into my mouth as I saw exactly the gift Haytham had hinted at.

"George!"

He turned, handsome face lighting up as he saw me, arms already open as I rushed in for a hug, momentum making the two of us stumble back, laughing together.

"Haytham told me there was a gift waiting for me in here," I said.

"A very kind description of me," George said, eyes glinting as he looked me over, as though I might've changed so dramatically since he'd last seen me that he needed to get familiar again.

"Accurate," I said. "I didn't even dare to hope. You never said you were coming back."

"By the time I knew it was too late to send a letter," he said. "And I imagined you'd appreciate the surprise."

"I do." I grinned at him. "I missed you."

He kissed the top of my head, holding me close, breathing me in as we swayed together.

I'd never get tired of this. The house always felt so empty without him.

"And I you, Shay. And I you."

This was definitely worth losing Haytham's lap for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally, the end!! Thank you for sticking with me <3


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